


The Earth Tilted Sideways

by Ferith12



Series: The Immortal Prussia [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Presumed Major Character Death, Temporary Character Death, This series is a crossover with Highlander, brief - Freeform, but that doesn't come into this story like at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferith12/pseuds/Ferith12
Summary: Germany was in a meeting at America’s house when it happened.
Relationships: Germany & Prussia (Hetalia)
Series: The Immortal Prussia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569013
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	The Earth Tilted Sideways

Germany was in a meeting at America’s house when it happened. 

The ache at the heart of him dulling, like a scar still present, but healed over, like a piece of shrapnel pulled from a wound, things settling into place, whole. It was such a good feeling, his people finally, completely his and only his. It filled him with an instinctual euphoria that felt like betrayal.

He went still. People were still talking, but he couldn’t hear them. The world had tunneled, centered on himself, and all he could feel was his heart, beat, beat, beating in his chest, the feel of his land and his people and the absence that had blinked out of existence when he least expected it.

It couldn’t be true. But it was. As surely as the sunshine falling through the windows, as surely as the warm tethered pull towards his heart’s home so far away.

“I need to go home,” he said. Everyone had turned to stare at him in surprise. He had probably interrupted someone important. It was possible he had never done something so rude in his entire life. But that didn’t matter now.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “But I need to leave right now. It’s a family emergency.”

America’s eyes widened in realization. “That’s perfectly fine,” he said, “Go. We can reschedule later if we have to.”

Several of America’s people looked like they wanted to object, but America glared at them and they kept their mouths shut.

He sat on the plane on the way back to Berlin, staring into nothing. He had known that Prussia was fading, felt his people to the east becoming more and more his as time went on. He had fought it, in the way that nations can, thinking  _ these _ people are mine, and  _ those _ are my brother’s. It was the only reason he had lasted this long, after the wall fell. But it wasn’t enough. He had known it wasn’t enough. But he wasn’t ready.

He should have known. He should have seen how much his brother had weakened. But Prussia had made an artform of pretending to be fine and Germany was busy. He had noticed that Prussia was going outside less, but it was summer and he thought nothing of it. He had noticed, too, that Prussia had been bothering him less, but he hadn’t thought about that either. He had known the Prussia was growing weaker, but he had not imagined he was at death’s door. Maybe there was still a small part of him that was still a child who believed his brother to be invincible.

He remembered the last time he saw his brother. Germany had been working, and Prussia had been lying on the sofa and talking loudly about something Germany couldn’t even remember now. He had yelled at Prussia to stop bothering him and go do something useful for once, and Prussia hadn’t left but had quieted down a little until it was time for Germany to leave.

“Have fun with America,” Prussia had said. And Germany had grumped something about the trip being for business, not pleasure. Prussia had told him he needed to lighten up, and Germany had said that  _ someone _ needed to take things seriously, and that was the last interaction they’d had. Would ever have.

He couldn’t decide who he was more enraged at, Prussia for not telling him, or himself for not noticing.

But there was only one of them left to blame now.

Germany was not a crier. The last time had been tears of joy when the wall fell and his brother hugged him so tightly his ribs almost cracked. The time before that was shortly after WWII, when everything had fallen apart, when the nation of Prussia was tried and executed.

Here, sobbing silently in the airplane, surrounded on all sides by uncomfortable strangers, with his knees crammed in the too-small space behind the seat in front of him, Germany wondered if he would ever cry about anything again, now that Prussia wasn't there for him to cry over.

He opened the door to his house and his dogs barked at him in greeting.

“Oh, West, you’re home!”

Germany stared at Prussia grinning in front of him. His mouth dropped open.

“You died,” Germany said.

“Yep.”

“You’re not dead.”

“Something like that,” Prussia said, “You really ditched all of your responsibilities just for me, huh. I knew you cared!”

“I thought you were _ dead _ !” Germany yelled, furious.

And then Prussia was hugging him, real and solid and firm. “It’s okay, baby brother, I’m right here.”

And Germany was crying again, and Prussia was rubbing circles into his back like he did when Germany was just a tiny child.

“I’m just too awesome to die!,” he said, “You’re going to be stuck with me forever.”

“I left in the middle of a meeting,” Germany said, “I was incredibly rude.” 

His brother laughed, and they held each other for another two seconds before Prussia pulled away. 

“Alright,” Prussia said briskly, straightening Germany’s airplane-and-crying-rumpled clothing, “Feelings are over. Go get changed and then come help me clean this house.”


End file.
